Virtue and faith, the tutelary powers,

Thy hearths that hallow, and defend thy towers!

Still, where thy hamlet vales, O chosen isle!

In the soft beauty of their verdure smile,

Where yew and elm o’ershade the lowly fanes

That guard the peasant’s records and remains,

May the blest echoes of the Sabbath-bell

Sweet on the quiet of the woodlands swell,

And from each cottage-dwelling of thy glades,

When starlight glimmers through the deepening shades,